


Prisoners of Love

by PlumBat



Category: The Producers (2005)
Genre: Communication, M/M, Open Relationships, Pre-Relationship, Prison, Prison Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:16:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9984731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumBat/pseuds/PlumBat
Summary: Max is going to die in Sing Sing, he just knows it. Shouldn't he at least have a little pleasure before he goes? But Leo turns him down. Sort of.Like most of my fanworks, I have every intention of writing more of this, which may or may not happen.Based on the 2005 musical (though the 1968 movie is actually my fave, and if you haven't seen it you should).





	

It had been nine long, long weeks since Max and Leo were processed into Sing Sing. Just 251 more weeks to go… oh G-d. He wasn’t going to make it. He was going to die here, shivved in the yard, or, more likely, poisoned by the rotten mess they served at mealtime. Max Bialystock, once the King of Broadway, a broken-down old man who died an imprisoned pauper, killed by mystery-slop. If that’s not high tragedy, what is?

Well, Max thought, at least it wasn’t as pathetic as it could possibly be. They wouldn’t be able to say “a broken-down old man who died **alone** , an imprisoned pauper, killed by mystery-slop.” As hard as it was to believe, he wasn’t alone. Leo made things so much more bearable. Someone he could kvetch to. Someone he could reminisce with. Someone to make him ever so slightly less of a target by watching his back.

The idea of Bloom as someone who could provide him some protection was still hard for Max to wrap his head around. The shrinking pipsqueak had really changed in Rio. He carried himself differently -- smoother, less jerky. He stood straighter, he spoke steadier. He was still no prize-fighter by any means, but finally getting some action had at least made the kid into a man.

But of course, thoughts of Leo’s time in Rio brought his mind to Ulla Bloom. Max still felt… well, not _jealous_ exactly, about their relationship… ok, jealous, he felt jealous, why try to sugarcoat it. His problem was, he couldn’t quite decide who he was jealous _of_.

At first, it seemed so obvious. He was jealous of Leo, of course! Getting to make it with that Blond Amazon! That Sweet Swede! When _Leo_ hadn’t even wanted to hire her! That had been all Max’s idea, he’d had to talk the nebbishy shrimp into it! And then Leo gets the girl, and Max is still alone? It just wasn’t fair.

The thing was, though, when he thought of them together, and felt that jealous frustration flash through him, as much as he thought about Ulla’s amazing assets, he also thought about Leo letting loose and what a sight that’d be. While he may have gotten to see Leo transform from a caterpillar into a butterfly, he still hadn’t seen him fly. Hadn’t seen him really joyous. He wanted to see that. Instead, he was sure, Ulla and only Ulla had. Max was Leo’s friend! His partner! His mentor! His comrade! But who does the uptight little schmuck actually open to? The very first woman who kissed him. Though to be fair, WHAT a woman.

Eh, there was no use dwelling. Ulla wasn’t here now, there were no conjugal visits allowed at Sing Sing, neither of them were getting laid. Of course, that's not to say that none of the crooks around them were. Max heard them every night, prisoners getting it on with each other once the lights were out, with their abysmal attempts at being quiet about it.

Max wouldn’t mind, normally, he wasn’t a prude, and certainly he wasn’t suicidal enough to try telling them to keep it down. But he himself hadn’t been physically close to anyone in months now, and had no prospects of doing so for years! Hearing other men getting their rocks off was a bit was a bit much to take. He didn’t exactly miss ol’ “hold me, touch me” or “kiss me, feel me” or G-d forbid “yank me, spank me”... he still shuddered sometimes when he thought about the things she’d made him do... but at least he’d been _wanted_.

So while at first he’d managed to turn a deaf ear to the nightly shenanigans in this place, it was getting harder and harder… so to speak. Every damn night now, for a week straight (so to speak) at this point, he found himself lying awake, listening to hardened gangsters engaging in hanky panky in this G-d forsaken place. He couldn’t help getting a little hardened himself, more often than not, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it! Damn it, he would _not_ take care of himself with Leo still awake to hear. The thought was too humiliating. So, of course, Leo never fell asleep first, ever, because that was just Max Bialystock’s rotten luck in life, to have a night owl for a cellmate.

One night, Max simply couldn’t take it. He needed a little relief. He was lying on his stomach, his pillow over his head, trying and failing not to listen to the nighttime show. Giving in, he humped his lumpy mattress as subtly as he could. It was just starting to feel really nice, and then he heard the squeak that Leo’s bedframe made any time Max’s cellmate shifted in bed. Max instantly froze. G-d damnit, had Leo moved because he was half-asleep and getting more comfortable? Or because he’d heard, and was trying to take a better look? Or maybe because he’d heard and turned away. He felt that same flavor of infuriating frustration that he was so used to feeling about Leo.

“Leo?” he whispered. Ah, shit. He should’ve kept his mouth shut.

“Yes, Max?”

The kid clearly hadn’t been even a little asleep, judging by his voice. Wasn’t that just great. Fuck it. He turned to face the other bunk.

“I was wondering if you might be interested in an… arrangement.”

“An arrangement, Max?”

“Yes, that’s what I said, an arrangement.”

There was a brief silence while the two men looked at each other in the dim light from the bulb in the hallway.

“What sort of arrangement?”

“A mutually satisfying one, let us say.”

Another short silence.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Of course you don't," Max sighed. "OK… Leo, do you hear Vinnie and Chuck screwing right now, four cells away from ours?”

“It would be hard not to, Max.”

“Yeah wouldn’t it just…" Max muttered. "Look, how is this not obvious to you? I’m asking if you want to do what they’re doing. Well, maybe not exactly what they’re doing, that sounds awfully aerobic, but something similar enough for our needs. I’m not a fruit, you’re not a fruit, and neither are Chuck or Vinnie, I assume, who knows. But we’re all stuck here, and none us are getting near a woman for years. So why not help each other out?”

That G-d damned silence again. He couldn't stand it. 

“Ok, fine, you’re too much of a bigot? What, you think that a man is automatically a sissy if he touches another man? That’s a disgusting attitude, Leo, and you should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I don’t think that! I mean, I guess I used to, but some of Roger’s friends are actually very tough guys… no, I, I don’t think that, Max. And besides, like you said, in here it’s… it’s not about who you want to be with, it’s about who’s convenient. I get that.”

“Forget it, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I --”

“I said FORGET IT.”

Max winced at his own volume and snapped his mouth closed. They both waited tensely to see if a guard would come. None did. Max rolled over to face the wall and squeezed his eyes closed. His face was hot with embarrassment and anger. He should’ve just gotten himself off and let Leo enjoy the show, pretended he didn’t know he was watching. But now that he’d said something, that was out of the question. Maybe another night, but right now he just tried desperately to think about anything other than sex, anything other than the stupid, selfish, sexless, stuck-up little nerd who’d just rejected him. It helped that his hard-on had fled the scene, and that Vinnie and Chuck seemed to have finished up.

The next morning, Max resolutely pretended that nothing had happened. Thank the Lord, Leo did too.

At least, that is, until three days later.

They were sitting alone in a corner of the yard, on a bench in the shade. Max had been telling the story of the time Clara Finkelberg had lost her voice halfway through Baby Want a Kiss. He was chuckling to himself at the conclusion, when, all of a sudden, Leo piped up.

“Max, you know that arrangement you proposed to me the other night?”

Max froze. “What about it?” he asked warily, not glancing in Leo’s direction.

“I just wanted you to know that I talked to Ulla about it during our phone call this morning.”

Max looked over at him sharply at the sound of that name. Leo was looking straight ahead, just as Max had been a moment ago. He was wringing his hands and scuffing the dirt manically with the toe of one shoe, but his voice stayed mostly steady.

“She was fine with it… actually, she was surprised that we weren’t shtupping already, heh, apparently she always thought we were and that I was just too shy to talk about it. The thing is, though, Max, to me it wouldn’t just be about who’s convenient. That’s the real problem, you see? I’ve given it some thought, and, even under these conditions, I can’t, ah, make love to someone without there being feeling and a, a commitment there. And… and well, that’s fine for me, because I do have a great deal of feeling for you, Max, a very great deal. And I’m committed, you know I am, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to stick by your side for… for as long as you’ll have me, I suppose! But I… I know it’s not the same for you, and I accept that. You’re a man who can have sex just to get something out of it, whether it be money or pleasure. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! But I’m not built that way. So it just wouldn’t work. I’m sorry, Max.”

For the very first time since they’d known each other, Max found that Leo had left him at a complete loss for words. He noticed that Leo’s eyes were glittering… was he crying? He tried to think of something, anything to say, but before he could, Leo stood, swiped one cuff quickly over his eyes, and then strolled off as if just stretching his legs. Max stared after him, mouth open.


End file.
